


I'll Die Anyway But Somethings In the Way

by NebeScribens



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Blood and Violence, Catra Has Issues (She-Ra), Crime Fighting, Crimes & Criminals, Entrapta Being Entrapta (She-Ra), F/F, F/M, Fantasizing Martydom, Graphic Description, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, Organized Crime, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Scorpia (She-Ra) is a Good Friend, Secret Identity, Suicidal Thoughts, Super Pal Trio Being Bros, Vigilantism, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26204269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebeScribens/pseuds/NebeScribens
Summary: Catra understands the nature of this city.It’s a cesspool of greed created by the privileged that trickles its filthy streams into those stricken by poverty. Desperation and crime plague the streets while those most fortunate ignore it.Despite being tired, overwhelmed, and discouraged she will do her best to complete her mission of Vengenace and justice.She will not compromise in this.OrCatra is an overworked and overdone vigilante with a curfew and way too much homework.No one ever said crime-fighting was easy, and on top of all this there are way too pretty girls in her school and she’s a bit too obsessed with her own death.Oh, and why does crop top, glitter, and Blondie act so suspicious.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra), Mermista/Sea Hawk (She-Ra), Past Catra/Lonnie, Past Catra/OC, Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

"Fuck."

Catra groaned into her hands, swinging her legs childishly from where she sat at the edge of the rooftop.

It’s a terrifying distance between her and the ground, plus the cars zipping on the streets below. But that’s, unfortunately, the _least_ of her problems.

Somehow she forgot her ‘real’ phone, which she was supposed to bring on patrol that night to turn in an assignment she finished a week before the due date. But ironically the very reason she did it so early is the same reason she's gonna get a zero for it. 

This whole Vigilante thing sure had its downsides sometimes.

Which to be fair was expected. But c'mon! In the movies, they never show 'Mr. I am vengeful, I am night’ doing paperwork. 

Spider-man has never felt more relatable and that is such a fucking mood.

For all the good she does, which if tonight goes well will increase a bit, karma had a weird way of showing its appreciation.

But whatever she has a job to do and according to the beeping in her ear it's showtime. 

Climbing has always been second nature to her so getting from here to Brightmoon Credit Union should be a breeze.

So she ambles up to her feet and presses shuffle on her ‘Night phone’ until it's on one of her favorites. it's just the right amount of chaotic energy that it spikes her already high adrenaline. 

Her friends would grill her for thinking it but she only ever really feels alive when she's doing this shit. 

Before she takes off she shoots a quick text of a cat stuck in a tree as a way to let Scorpia know that she’s working on rooftops tonight.

it's a routine they have just in case she slips and falls to her death. Catra doesn't really see the point though it's not like someone knowing there's a possibility she might fall will do anything to stop said fall. But Scorpia insists so she does it anyway.

She gets, as usual, a good luck and a smiley face back.

Time to play concrete jungle gym.

First, she maps out in her head a path that's relatively safe. Over 100 ft in the air her options are considerably limited. But she could scale the AC unit until she's close to the ledges of the next building. From there it should just be running, vaulting, and jumping at the right time. If it were up to her she'd do some flips or at least an aerial but Entrapta would know by the sensors on her suit and then she'd tell Scorpia. 

Bolting and swinging her arms upward mid-run her foot connects with the wall while the other thrusts her upward and she pulls herself up. As soon as her feet are safely planted on the edge She launches herself towards the nearby ledge of the building across from her. Landing into a roll she’s quickly back on her feet and gaining momentum to leap towards the next building.

She easily maneuvers herself across the last rooftop all the while carefully out of sight from windows and nosey tenants. Scaling down to a fire escape she unlocks the ladder extension and slides down the ladder’s sides. 

From here its alleyways and fire escapes until she reaches Brightmoon Credit Union.

After Ducking in and out of sight from unwanted stares she’s in an alley with BMC directly across.

It's late and most likely empty but she stays covered in the shadows anyway. With the moon faintly illuminating she could still see and was relieved to find no police cruisers. Meaning alarms probably hadn't gone off; Or the robbers were not here yet.

It was Entrapta’s find, mindlessly scouring social media until she found some suspicious posts that warranted some not so legal digging and phishing which led to incriminating texts. Photo ops with guns, ski masks, and more narcotics than she could name. They even texted each other with their real names. God criminals are fucking stupid. What makes it dumber is that the robbers are all students at Brightmoon Academy. Which means their either smart enough for the school's esteemed scholarship or simply rich. And judging from their posts with expensive cars and clothes she’d guess the latter.

She’s familiar with their type, rich kids who think it's ok to ruin other people's lives just to get a thrill or some rebellion. 

No lie she’s gonna enjoy scaring hell into them.

And fuck you Entrapta this isn't her projecting her issues with her brother.

She lurks out the alley to the empty street line, darting across the street quickly before any cars pass by. 

From the left of the bank down the street, are unattended motorcycles with no plates or even anti-theft locks.

Their here. 

Since this isn't a movie and she’s not bulletproof, she looks for another entrance other than the front. Behind the bank are garbage containers, ventilation units, and LOTS of cameras. But, eh at this point she wants the police to know she exists, maybe they’d do their fucking job for once.

Plus the public adores her, kinda-ish.

Nah who is she kidding, this city is afraid of her.

She’s seen its true face

And it's seen hers.

The closest ventilation Unit is smaller than the ones on the roof and basically a glorified stepping stool. But it's just the right enough height for her to reach the taller farther away unit. From there she could easily scale up to the rooftop.

And she knows that on top of the bank is a door leading to the roof thanks to google maps. So all she’ll have to do is pick that and she’s in.

Plus she can use the circuit breaker up there to hopefully cut the power inside. 

Finally, after reaching the tallest unit she’s on top of the roof. The ground beneath her feet crunches—Gravel she notes. Either to protect from the sun or hide motion sensors and judging from the pretty lax security in the front it's the former. 

Deciding to test her luck she simply walks to the locked door. Pressing her ear against it she hears silence.

“Yes!” She whispers, thankful for greedy negligent bank owners. 

Crouching she takes out her lockpicks and screwdriver. After several youtube videos and Entrapta’s help she’s gotten pretty good and quickly made short work of the lock. Surprisingly, it makes no creaking noise as she ajars it open. 

Maybe it's the stairs leading from it that’ll give her away, she muses. But nope no creaking either.

Welp, maybe karma is thankful after all.

At the end of the stairs she can see flashlights reflecting off strewn papers. The offices down the corridor are a mess. Office supplies everywhere and if that wasn't bad enough someone's family photos have been ripped up and thrown around. 

Ducking behind a desk, careful of the papers around her she picks up one of the torn photos. It's a family portrait—or it was before these bastards decided to tear it pieces. They look so happy and content, it's obvious they love each other very much. Nothing like her own family. 

It’s such a little thing compared to the fact that they're robbing a bank. But it sets her off nonetheless. What if the bank is closed down or people get laid off because of this? What if that smiling lady in the photo loses her job and her little girl with the adorable tooth gap goes hungry. 

Fuck it, these people make life garbage. So she’ll just take it out on them. 

Sticking her head above the desk she takes note that Entraptas intel, as usual, checked out. Three criminals. One with a limp from an injury during a BMU football game, and ahead with a mess of hair gel. The one aiming a Glock 17 around like it’s a toy didn't have any notable features, except he was smart enough to wear a mask. Interestingly though, if she remembered correctly, the third one a blonde with shaggy hair, had a fear of fire or something.

'Pyrophobia', Entrapta called it. 

Not one to waste time, she pulls out three of her man smoke pellets.

Without giving away her position, she yeets them.

One at the entrance, one at the center of the room, and one at the blonde. And if the way he’s screaming and freaking out gives any indication, they had the desired effect. 

His buddies aren't as scared but they are spooked. The one with the gun aiming at everything obscured by the smoke. “Who's there?!” He shouts.

The one with the limp is yelling at the panicked blonde. Perfect.

“Calm the fuck down! You're gonna get us caught dumbass.”

Catra doesn't have any sympathy for the screaming boy. She leaps onto the desk, unholsters the weapon on her side, and fires three rubber bullets to the boy's legs. 

As quick as she is the sound gives her away and she has to duck behind another desk to avoid blind panicked shots.

Seven shots she notes holstering her weapon.

“Oh god, he’s been shot! They fucking shot him!”

“Forget about him!” The one with the gun snarls. “Grab the cash and let's bail!”

The one with the limp spares glances at the whimpering blonde and stammers out an apology while fumbling with a bag onto his back. Before he could do anything else Catra shoots him with her taser. He cries out something strangled, spasms, and falls to the ground with a satisfying thud. As expected the masked one yells out some obscenities and fires off a couple more rounds. Five shots this time. 

With two down she throws caution to the wind and her next actions are a blur-to him. But to her, its a half planned half instinct mess of weaving from desk to desk and ducking into the throe of smoke. For every motion she makes he fires off a round. 

Perched on a desk she launches into a roll behind cover. 

Two shots. Two misses.

Behind cover, she fumbles for something in her left jacket pocket. Gravel with silver fulminate wrapped up in cigarette paper, in other words, Pop-its.

Simple but effective. She throws a hand full blindly. 

Three shots. Three misses. 

Catra ducks back behind the desk just as a piece of it was splintered off by one of the shots. She feels fear for a moment until it turns into a simmering rage.

The third shot was painstakingly close and would've hit her if she was taller. With a growl, she grabs a discarded stapler and flings it at his head. Her aim rings true and he jerks the trigger back once, but she was a tad bit too slow going back to cover.

Now he knows where she is and he still has two bullets left. 

“You think you're some hot shit don't ya.”

He raises his pistol in her direction, there's a smugness in his voice now and she's gonna enjoy turning it to fear. “I saw you bitch. Got a real good look at you too.”

She scrambles for an object and throws it as a distraction. It works and he fires another shot meaning he has only one left. In a matter of seconds, she’s already on top of the desk and leaping towards him. 

Trying to pin him down and wrestle the gun away is harder than she expected. And it takes all her training for her not to just choke the life out of him. There’s also the problem that he’s stronger than she anticipated.

“Get off me!” He huffs, managing to shove her off him and scramble to his feet. 

She says nothing in response and attempts to sweep his legs but he’s also faster than she anticipated too. She halts her movements and feels her heart thumping in that familiar fear and excitement. 

“On your fucking knees bitch.” He says, the gun aimed at her and held sideways for added intimidation. It doesn't work and she merely glowers at him. She’s not gonna beg for life and she sure as hell not gonna let this fucker blow her brains out on her knees.

There's a way out of this, she just hasn't seen it yet. 

A Primavera sees all after all.

“You think I won't?” He laughs, his voice smug but high pitched and shaky. 

Pointed at her face an angle that'll surely kill her, he pulls the trigger— but it clicks. He tries again and it clicks once more. He must've fired it another time before all this and forgot to reload. The realization doesn't feel her with relief but anger. She got lucky and the thought enrages her. 

Wrenching the gun away from his hand she knees him in the gut and then the face when he bows over. Dry heaving, he’s forced upright as she wrenches him by the neck with a tight hold.

"L-lemme go!"He pleads, attempting to wiggle out of Catra's grip.

With frantic movements, he slams the back of his head into her nose _really_ hard. She ignores it and In response kicks the back of his knee letting him crumple to the ground. 

She kicks his weapon away in one motion, no hesitation, never hesitating, ever again. 

He lies there gasping for any breaths he can grasp. 

“Get on your fucking knees, bitch” she snarls, pulling out her weapon and raising it at his head. 

At the sight of her weapon glinting in the dark, the waterworks emerge and he starts full-on begging for his life. But luckily for him, The boss man has a big strict no-kill rule and Scorpia has an even bigger heart.

She cracks a smile though when the rubber bullet makes a cracking noise against his face. Fractured jaw probably, but not dead and not her problem. Boss man gonna trip though. 

If he's even still alive. 

Sighing and feeling the effects of her most likely broken nose she pulls out a cellphone. Turning on her voice modulator she dialed 911. After some rings and nudging her last victim with her foot someone picks up the line.

“911, What's your emergency?”

“I just did something. You guys should come check it out. I’m at the Brightmoon Credit union bank over on Thaymore Central."

“Ma’am? Sir? What did you do?” The dispatcher asks clearly hesitant. 

“Your job.” She growls, hangs up, and crushes the burner phone under her heel. 

Remembering the bikes she saw she decides to take the front exit and heads left down the street. Already she can hear the drill of sirens so she quickens her stride and is relieved to find the keys already in the engine.

Most likely for an easier getaway. 

There are three but only one catches her eye and if she was a cat she’d be purring.

The motorcycle is sleek and long, painted a dark red that matches her jacket, along with a few matte black flame embellishments.

“Thank you Karma.” she grins.

The ride home is a short one but the stinging of her nose makes it seem longer. 

Sneaking into the house without waking up her brother is a task as always but she manages it even with a broken nose. Plus he’s probably busy doing nerd shit and texting Entrapta. 

One thing Entrapta is good at besides making her gear is distracting her older brother from her 'extracurricular activities'.

Entrapta has made it very clear though that if she was ever _directly_ questioned she wouldn't lie to her ‘Lab partner'. The fact that she hasn't just outright told him said a lot about their friendship though. 

“Ugh,” She groans.

It's way too late to be doing any of her homework let alone muse over the 'Superpal Trio’. So after stripping off her gear, plopping on her bed face first and regretting that as her nose throbs in response, she sleeps. 

  
  


  



	2. "That's a mouthful."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brightmoon was once plagued with crime. Men like Vultak, Kahn, and Skeletor ran poison throughout the streets and built a fortune off the misery of others.   
> From human trafficking to petty theft, men like them brought out the worst in Brightmoon citizens. The wealthy and influential ignored it, and crime became like war in Ba sing se.   
> Until a woman who dubbed herself, She-ra, defeated Beast-Man and publicly waged war on Skeletor's crime empire. Inspired by her mighty sword and will; One by one heroes emerged to uphold the mantle of justice, and they formed the Great Rebellion.   
> But just as quickly as she emerged, She-ra died and one by one so did more heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really gonna enjoy writing this kind of Adora.  
> Catra is fucking gay.  
> Glimmer is a mean girl lowkey.  
> Entrapta is always ready to throw hands.  
> Hordak is whipped.  
> Bow is best boy.  
> Scorpia is a good friend.  
> I titled the art as "Hordak's top" in my files

In the morning she regrets two things. Falling asleep face down and not dropping out of school years ago.   
  
Not that she could though; her dad would kill her.

So begrudgingly, and painfully she drags herself out of bed and into her morning routine. 

Stepping out of the confines of her room, as usual, there on the highest point of the door is a posted note.  
  
When she first arrived at her new home the first thing she noticed was how tall everything was. Being young she feared over the possibility that her new foster family were giants who took her in for an easy meal—not that she wouldn't have raised hell if they tried.  
  
After a very stiff introduction to her new foster brother, she was fed and shown her room. Being anxious as hell, the confines of her room became, and stayed, a little safe haven in the big manor like house. And sometimes the world itself.   
  
For the first time in her life, she was given her own room and not only that but toys of all sorts that she didn't have to share with anyone or get in trouble for touching without permission. So of course she didn't leave for a single second her first night or even second.   
  
When she finally left, she was startled to find a bright posted note from her new busy foster parent. That morning she realized two things, one they weren't giants she was just short and two she needed glasses.   
  
Now years older and sporting glasses she could almost reach the note posted on her door. If she stood on her tippy toes—but hey at least she could read it.  
  
It's just a simple good morning but one that always brings a warmth to her chest. Like the yellow paper is her own sun beaming at her in the morning.   
  
Another startling thing was the lack of restrictions which she would later learn was normality. Food was given three times a day(besides late-night snacking), when she tensed at the sight of a running bath she was allowed brisk showers instead, and she was allowed to go anywhere in the house with the exception of Hordak's precious room.  
  
But what was most startling to the point that it felt wrong was the lack of consequences. Even for all of Weaver's unfairness and cruelty Catra always felt a semblance of guilt when she was punished.  
  
Stealing food, wasting water, and breaking shit added up after all.  
  
But even when she knew she should be punished, like when she bit Hordak, instead she was sat down and spoken too.

Comforted in fact.

Besides Hordak no one has ever laid a hand on her inside this house.

Well except the time she was given a smack upside the head once by Edna but she did set the stove on fire.  
  
Half-Wincing and half cringing from that particular memory she swings open the door to her bathroom.   
  
Which, if Hordak knew better, should be clear of his icky junk and pill bottles.  
  
Forgoing a shower, she splashes water from the sink on her face.  
  
Looking back at her are tired eyes, matted hair, and a bruised nose.  
  
_Fuck_ she groans no way Scorpia isn't gonna see that.  
  
It's not quite purple but it sure as hell ain't her skin color either. Not to mention the cut on the bridge and the dried blood trailed down her nostril.  
  
Crusty red and black forming a path to her mouth from last night's dripping. It stains her lip. Licking it she can taste copper, feel anger, and hear the click of an empty Glock.  
Catra watches in the mirror as blood drips down into the sink.  
  
She tastes cloth, feels the ropes skinning her wrist, and hears the hammering of her own heart as he—the sink is white, her hands are wet and the mirror shows reality.   
  
Focusing on these things, she refuses to let her thoughts run wild, about what just happened, about last night, and about what feels like a lifetime ago. Or at least should feel like a lifetime ago.  
  
_Use your eyes_ she tells herself a Primavera sees all.  
  
Face dry and clean She leaves the bathroom and heads downstairs for breakfast. She rarely did besides the occasional breakfast in bed Edna made her on the weekends.

Maybe she'll recreate that together breakfast from that show except without the together part. Cause fuck Hordak.  
  
"Is that what the kids are saying these days?" Hordak snorts dryly from where he's—cooking breakfast? Clad in mittens and a purple fucking apron. Entrapta’s she recognizes.  
  
God, he is whipped. Also, did she really say that out loud?  
  
"Just Trapta," She mutters, taking a piece of fruit from the bowl atop the table.  
  
He scowls at the spread he managed to make and the fruit she's devouring like it was imported from Eden itself.  
  
Like she's gonna trust a breakfast made by Hordak of all people.  
  
What looks like a pout form on his face briefly but he schools it back to his usual grumpy demeanor. Ignoring him and a prick of guilt, she tries to focus on her apple.  
  
Try being the keyword cause Hordak is subtly staring at her. But Hordak has never been one for subtly so he's just bluntly looking at her.  
  
"Do you know how fucking creepy that is?" Catra groans, throwing the rest of her apple away.“You obviously have something to say. So instead of staring at me like a fucking owl, just say it."  
  
There was a beat of more silence until Hordak finished his scrutinization and chose his words.  
  
“New bike?” He squints, pointing out the window at her sleek red motorcycle.   
  
_Shit_ , so much for getting away with breaking curfew.   
  
“New hickeys?” She smirks, pointing at the red marks that colored the paler areas of his neck.   
  
Hordak hides his embarrassment behind a faux coughing fit and straightens up.

So that's why he didn't hear her getting home so late. Thank you Entrapta, really took one for the team.

In more ways than one, yuck.   


“What happened to your nose?” He counters.  
  
_Shit._  
  
She shrugs.”I’m a high schooler and my best friends build calculators and make friendship bracelets for fun. I'm not exactly in the running for the most popular kid.”   
  
“Still you should've told me. I could've done something. He replies, sounding surprisingly concerned.   
  
The words wash over her like kerosene on embers. How dare he? She doesn't need his concern and especially not his pity. It's several years way too fucking late anyway.   
  
“Yeah that's just what I need.” she scoffs. “My ‘big brother’ to scare away the big bad bullies.”   
  
He opens his mouth to reply, but she cuts him off. “Just because your fucking one of my friends doesn't give you the right to care about me all of a sudden.”   
  
With a snarl, he’s up in her space, and it takes all her effort not to slam his face on that turtle shell tabletop. And she's sure he feels the same. 

Plus the prospect of Entrapta being upset.   
  
"Don't you ever speak of Entrapta in such a vile obscene manner.”   
  
“Whatever,” She snarls back, shoving him aside and rushing out the door to her bike.   
  
She ignores her uneaten breakfast which will bite her in the ass when Scorpia finds out all she had was an apple. She ignores whatever the fuck comes flying out of his mouth next as she slams the door. And she ignores the stinging of her nose which may be from unbidden tears pricking her eyes or from that fuckers hard-ass head.   
  
It's trivial and childish. Running out the house and slamming the door like she was in a teen drama or some shit.

But honestly, of fucking course she did it.

When she was younger sometimes, when something new or something strange and scary happened, she ran. Some instinctual part of her mind that went blank except for the instinct to bolt.

And even after she was saved and taught her how to put a full-grown man flat on his ass, nothing changed.   
  
Hell, she even managed to defeat someone The Rebellion never could. But still, Like a cornered animal she runs—No, scampers, away all weak and pathetic.  
  
Nothing but a goddamn animal.   
  
Shaking her head, grimacing, from the true but unwanted thoughts she tries to focus on something else.   
  
Like the fucking motorcycle she's been riding for the past few minutes without a care for something like safe—  
  
“Holy Fuck, shit!— Sorry!” She howls at the cabbage street vendor of all things that she almost veered into.   
  
As good a sign as any she focuses her attention on the bike purring beneath her.  
  
She’s always been an adrenaline junkie, even before she started scouring rooftops, but the familiar rush of a near-death experience is another high in itself. That's not to say she’s suicidal though. For all her issues with her own life and shortcomings, she'd never be selfish enough to end her own life. After all, who else is gonna ditch class to stop this city from tearing itself apart? People are depending on her. 

But still, the fast-paced rush of it all is downright intoxicating. Entrapta once remarked it may be the power such an action can hold and the lack of control she’s had in earlier aspects of her life. Scorpia seems to think she’s vying to be a martyr, but who knows.   
  
Catra sure doesn't.  
  
Speaking of which there it was, courtesy of an almost flattened cabbage vendor. Plus the rush of the motorcycle itself. Roaring wind jetting through her hair as she zoomed down the stretch of road and traffic.   
  
A few more miles straight, a left, and then two rights she might get to class on time for once.   
  
But if she didn't, oh well. It's not like they were learning anything important anyway. Just some stuff about the war of the first coalition. What was it? Catra had no idea. Who was in it? Fucking everybody apparently.

* * *

Being friends with Catra was...an ordeal, to say the least. A good ordeal of course but still an ordeal, nevertheless. From dressing up in black and red to beat criminals black and blue. To getting into arguments with teachers and being habitually late to everything. The small prickly girl was a handful.

"Hey! Young lady did you not hear what I just said?"

"I heard exactly what you said but given that it and this class is bullshit I've decided to ignore it. " Catra snorts, looking bored and completely done. 

Watching Catra go back and forth with their first-period teacher, she takes the time to text her girlfriend an apology and raincheck for their outing today. Because she is most likely heading to ISS right alongside her prickly friend. Next to her, not even caring, is Entrapta probably doing the same with Hordak. But Scorpia’s not mad, and one of Perfuma’s most endearing qualities is that she very understanding. Great friends and an amazing girlfriend how in the hell could Scorpia ever be mad. 

“Anyone else?!” 

The screech of a chair and books falling with a thud steals everyone's attention. Except for Entrapta who's still jotting away at her paper like she’s solving the secrets of the universe.

“Uhh,” Scorpia rubs her neck awkwardly from where she stands. Glancing around the room nervously she sees Catra's wide eyes of disbelief and her teacher's own stern glare. 

“Excuse me, hi, sorry, Um—yes, I think that's— Bullshit. Also, I am so sorry.”

"She's right," Entrapta offers, not even bothering to look up from her work. “Based on the Social cues of my peers and watching comedy school drama comedies, I think this does fall up under the category of Bullshit."

The class goes stock still and Scorpia wishes her hammering heart would do the same. 

Catra, somehow still looking bored despite being given the third degree, shares a look with Entrapta and Scorpia while their teacher is scribbling out write-up slips like he’s amending the fucking constitution. It was at that moment they knew, they fucked up. 

* * *

"Fuck this fucking school and its oppressing fixation on time." Catra snarls, plopping down in her usual seat. Right smack dab in the middle where Mrs. Netossa refuses to replace the lopsided desk.   
  
"Catra," Scorpia says warningly. "What's wrong Cat your more prickly than usual today? Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?"   
  
Don't 'Catra' me right now Scorpia. Every side of the _fucking_ bed is the wrong _fucking_ side with a busted _fucking_ nose."  
  
Scorpia gasps as if watching a terrible event unfold.  
  
"YOUR NOSE IS BUSTED! I knew it was looking a little swollen. And you're doing your 'I'm in pain but im too cool to say it' scowl."   
  
_Shit._  
  
"It's just a scratch, I'm fine!" Catra hisses while trying to dodge Scorpia's grabby hands.   
  
"Lemme—stay still—Catra, c'mon lemme see!"  
  
With a gentle and strong grip, Scorpia tilts her head several ways, scrutinizing her nose with a careful eye. 

She looked like Dr.Ash, Scorpia's mother who was a trauma surgeon with a knack for patching up people for no charge. If the good doctor knew the things her daughter could do with just a first aid kit and some pliers she'd be so fucking proud. But Scorpia's dream of being a trauma surgeon would never come to fruition and she had Catra to thank for that.  
  
"I'm pretty sure it's just bruised, nothing much you can do about that except ice and some rest, which I already know your not gonna do." Scorpia scolds while cupping her cheek, thumb rubbing the tension out of Catra's temples, and Catra oh so subtly leans her head into the touch. "Did you even try to treat it? Ice, gauze, or heck even toilet paper?" Scorpia asks.   
  
"No, I fell asleep," Catra mutters in shame, lies falling dead on her tongue. "It was a long night."  
  
"You can't just ignore these things Catra, I know it's hard but I really don't want a repeat of..." Scorpia trails off because words fail to describe what happened and they both know it.  
  
Catra scrunches her nose and fights off the urge to look away cause this isn't just a lecture, it's Scorpia being worried about her.  
  
“I know Scorps, but if I take a day off for every injury I get do you thinking the rapist and killers would do the same? I choose to do this, And I know the risks. Besides it's not even that bad.”  
  
"I know Cat," Scorpia sighs, the familiar look of disappointment tearing at Catra's heart. "I just...worry sometimes."  
  
"Catra!” Entrapta chimes in with the punctuality of a heart attack and drawing unwanted stares.

“Hordak said you got a new bike!” Her eyes twinkled, thinking of all the possible upgrades and modifications she could make. "I could make some 'upgrades' if you want and a helmet with wireless communication capabilities, LED torches, and hmm maybe a heads up display. But only for GPS purposes and of course, all the power would have to come from one source without overheating since you need to breathe. And OH Kitty ears, I could make kitty ears Catra!"  
  
Cringing at the purple-haired girl's voice and suggestions of kitty ears Catra manages a strained smile. "How about we talk about that in private, kay Trapta?"  
  
"OOOOh, riiiight gotcha," Entrapta whispers, or at least makes an effort to, back.

"Anyway, I gotta get back to working on my plans for documenting the upcoming category three blizzard." Entrapta murmurs already scribbling stuff in her journal.

"I for one think Catra would look swell with Kitty ears, Scorpia says, a smile returned on her face, "I dare say Adorable."

Catra opens her mouth to deny such an accusation but the thwack of paper against her head stills her tongue.

"Whoops." She hears her soon to be victims say.

Catra turns to throw back the offending wad paper along with some hands but when she turns to the perpetrators her mind kinda goes—OH NO THEIR HOT.

Two girls and a boy, looking like they belong in a teen drama or something.

The boy sits criss-cross in his chair with a crop top that showed off an impressive set of caramel toned abs. From the guilty look on his face, it looks like he's the paper pitcher.   
  
Beside him or rather perched on his desk is a girl. Glittery purple hair, soft features, and shorter than a line to the cat's movie she looks like a proper princess. But the Sharp as a knife eyeliner and black leather jacket gives off a 'be gay do crimes vibe'.  
  
Lastly of course is a blonde who looks like she could bench press her and Catra would probably thank her for her time. She wearing a varsity jacket and sports team colors.

But for the life of her Catra couldn't tell you what sport it was for.

Because underneath that Letterman her eyes are drawn to a red crop top. And if you thought the boy’s abs were impressive they had nothing on blondie's. Not to mention those high waisted shorts trailing down to milky muscular thighs.

She could choke her with her thighs and Catra would forget the necessity of oxygen.   
  
Still practically undressing the blonde with her eyes she barely registers Scorpia coughing for her attention. 

This does two things.

One, she remembers what she was supposed to be doing before she decided to appreciate the figures before her.

Two it makes the blonde produce a very cute laugh that threatens to encase Catra in the web of figure appreciating again.

But luckily Scorpia knows her so well and would never just let her drown in disastrous gay waters.

"You ok cat? You've been staring for a whole minute now."

_Fucking traitor._

Shaking her head Scorpia moves to introduce her. 

"Guys, this is C-."

"C'yra," Catra says cutting off her friend with a glare."C'yra Drilluth Primavera."  
  
"C'yra Drilluth Primavera." The blonde girl says slowly, as if getting a tasting the name. "That's a mouthful," Catra stares at her expectantly with narrowed eyes as pensive ones stare back.   
  
"But a nice mouthful."The blonde finally says, with a wide smile as her cerulean eyes dart vertically over Catra's form.  
  
_What the fuck does that mean?!_  
  
"Thank you?" Catra blanches, unsure of what to say or even do with her hands. Why was she so aware of her fucking hands right now?!  
  
Adora closes her eyes and exhales through her nose, something that really shouldn't be stealing Catra's attention span as it does.

She opens them with a wide smile and chuckles. "Your welcome."

"Okay, Adora does that sometimes, but it's nice to meet you. I'm Bow by the way!" The boy says smiling, seemingly unaware of Catra's panicking. Unlike Scorpia who's smiling at her like a proud parent. Fucking traitor.  
  
"And I'm Glimmer. Which you'd know if you actually came to class for once." The sparkling haired girl huffs with her arms crossed.

Perhaps Catra should be worried that this previously unknown to her person seemingly dislikes her but...the leather jacket is really doing it for her.  
  
A bell rings loudly, the second-period bell that signifies lunch which is usually when Mrs.Netossa makes her way from her wife's classroom and back here to supervise.   
  
"Uh-huh," Catra nods cutting the meager conversation short cause Mrs.Netossa isn't the only one who has to ditch a pretty girl for responsibilities it seems. "Really nice meeting you Glitter, Arrow, and Adoor but I got things to do so... Scorpia we gotta bounce."   
  
Glimmer snorts looking even more crossed with Catra.

"Its Glimmer, and what things? Finally going to class for once?"

A rush of affection washed over her as she feels Entrapta and Scorpia both turn tense beside her. 

Entrapta's face scrunches slightly, eyes squinting narrowly at Glimmer. She’s trying to determine the intent behind the words and so far she doesn't like them.

She may not seem like it but Entrapta could be vicious in a fight and Scorpia even more so.  
  
"While I'm sure Catra appreciates the concerns you have, however misplaced, for her academic studies. I assure you her truancy has not affected them," Entrapta finally says, just the barest hints of annoyance in her tone. "Besides with me as her tutor, her chances of passing go up about...10 percent. " She shrugs somehow doing the math on her fingers, "Probably."  
  
"ISS hasn't even ended yet." Glimmer scoffs, while Adora and Bow wave goodbye.

Well, technically the blonde did finger guns but same difference.

"Bye Glimmer, see you next week for the robotics club Bow. And good luck tomorrow Adora." Scorpia waves cheerfully as always.  
  
Grabbing her friends by their clothes Catra drags them into the hallway.

Slumping against the lockers adjacent to the splash zone water fountain Catra tries to gather herself.

Its pathetic how a two-minute conversation could be this draining. And it two minutes was stretching it along with calling it a conversation.

Scorpia sighs and gives her friend some space while Entrapta starts humming a warbled tune that usually grounds the brunette.

Despite being a small ball of prickliness, shy, is a word that Scorpia often thought of Catra. It confused her at first how someone who lived in a larger than life world shied away from everyone.

Even before she caught her dressed up like a professional larper and bleeding from a stab wound all over her mom's floor, Scorpia always felt like Catra was something untouchable.

The girl was rich, came off as cocky, and was often brought up in the same sentence as her older brother Hordak. Who had a reputation for treating everyone with a careful amount of disdain. Not too little and not too much.

He also had a temper with a knack for violence to match.   
  
So many people assumed Catra was the same, Scorpia one of them. But while they took that as a sign to avoid the prickly girl Scorpia did the opposite. Plus there was a small healthy amount of crushing involved, so like Icarus she went towards what seemed to Burn hotter than hell.

And oh boy did Catra glare and snap at her with something intense.   
  
But slowly over Scorpia's cheerful persistence and both no having anyone else to really talk to Catra's rough exterior melted away and showed off something frighteningly fragile.  
  
Like a beautiful structure made of entirely glass. Masterfully crafted, breathtaking, and standing strong. But it wouldnt take much to destroy it in a single moment.   
  
But Scorpia wouldn't _ever_ think of her as weak. Even if she didnt spend ber nights breaking arms and taking names Catra would still be the strongest person Scorpia knew. She survived an early childhood of violence and bigotry, and that isn’t easy.

But still, she worries.  
  
It’s hard to get her out of her own mind sometimes, especially under the lingering plagues of crime and violence that dominates her everything. Casting shadows under her eyes and bruises all over her body.  
  
Catra doesn't like dealing with people and brushes them off cause she cares too much. She obsesses over protecting the people she loves to the point that it can be constricting.

_Toxic_ , 'Fuma would probably say.

Scorpia knows she cant help it though.

She's a product of other people's values and wants. Molded since she was a child, first to accept consequences and the pain they bring. And second to be willing to do anything for the mission.  
  
What mission? Scorpia had absolutely no idea but from how Catra described her training it cant be anything good.  
  
Crime-fighting was supposed to be an act of rebellion. Reclaiming herself and forging her own path. But Catra is a product of her upbringing and now she's in so deep that if she stops she'll drown.  


Speaking of upbringing though, Catra has at least one parental figure that Scorpia likes and the fact that he's a ruthless businessman says a lot about the other two.  
  
Mr.Primavera was a realist and had a particularly harsh view on life but the softness he reserved for Catra was heartwarming.  
  
Entrapta disliked him though, which is fair since his relationship with his brother/adopted son is..tense to say the least.  
  
"You know them?" Catra finally whispers, looking for prying ears in the empty hallway.  
  
"Yeah, Bow is part of the Etherian maker club, me and Adora take a cooking class together and Glimmer is friends with Fuma."  
  
Right, Perfuma, Scorpia's girlfriend of one year and five months, who's she's yet to meet.   
  
"Yeah," Scorpia says rubbing the skin where her flesh meets prosthetic. "I would've told you but..."  
  
She trails off awkwardly letting the implications hang in the air as if suspended by rope.

She knows exactly what Scorpias talking about.

When she was so arrogant and full of herself she forgot about the thorns on her rose-tinted glasses. 

She disregarded orders and Scorpia. And when everything with _him_ and _her_ were over that arrogance turned into smoldering guilt that ate at her relentlessly. Looking at Scorpia let alone talking to her felt impossible.  
  
Once Scorpia even tried to apologize of all things.

Like Catra wasn't the reason she lost her fucking hand. And what did Catra do when Scorpia whose always been there for her needed her?

She ran.

Like a scared cornered animal, she ran.  
  
Abandoning Scorpia to deal with her new disability and trauma all by herself. She even left Entrapta in the dark letting her listen and fester with all types of horrible rumors.  
  
So of course when Catra found out they gained their own support system she stayed out of it. Even when Entrapta’s turned out to be Hordak of all people.  
  
It was only after a close call while patrolling did she make contact with them again and that was only because she thought she was gonna die.  
  
Surely but slowly they all made up but it was left unsaid like Catra apologizing that she still wouldn't interact with the new parts of their lives.   
  
She felt—no she knew that she would only poison and bring ruin to it.

Besides, it was too dangerous to involve anyone else.  
  
Stumbling down memory lane like a drunk leaves her frustrated like an angry one. Which is good, she needs to go do her job anyway and an angry Catra is an effective Catra.   
  
“I gotta go patrol,” She says, stopping Entrapta’s humming and Scorpia’s concerns over space.” I promise I'll be careful.”   
  
She allows Scorpia to give her one tight hug since it may very well be their last.   
  
Pulling away, Catra turns to Entrapta who is pulling at the fabric of her gloves.

She only does that when she has something to say, but past occurrences have made her wary of speaking her mind.

So Catra and Scorpia wait until Entrapta realises she can interject herself freely into the conversation.  
  
“Here,” she finally says, pulling out her phone and tapping furiously on it. “I’m sending you a route I think you should check out tonight. There have been some reports of screaming in the area. ”  
  
Catra schools her expression, trying not to seem unimpressed. “There's screaming on a lot of streets in the Fright Zone, especially late at night.”   
  
“Yeah but these were heard by an orphanage. The catholic one sponsored by the church.”   
  
That halts her and drives her all the same. Screaming is a regular occurrence around those parts but children and screaming rouses an alarm in her mind. She knows the horrors hidden in places where adults hold power over children.

But she also knows the head of that church. Fr.Giovanni Coletti, a good man in an area marred by crime and corruption.

It's probably just kids being kids.   
  
“I’ll check it out,” She says, giving Entrapta a pat on her shoulder. “You nerds should get to class.”

* * *

  
  
Never separated.

They swore to each other, either together or...pointblank always together.

The very idea was indescribable; only those big ones the 'talk to man' used would work.

Anxiety, frustration, and volatility.

All those words she felt and previously thought of as just being lost when they tried separating them gradually and then blatantly.  
  
But it failed because of course it did. What they had was forever as long as they stayed together.   
  
_Faggots_ the older kids called them snickering at their joined hands.

An unhealthy codependency the talk to man said while scribbling away on his clipping board.

A _sin_ the adults chided when their brief hugs were a second too long and it got them caught.   
  
Perhaps they were all right, after all, how would Danae even know? She was as perplexed at their habits as everyone else.

She knew she was too old to be needing someone else in her bed to sleep. She'd been got rid of the nightlight and stuffed silly dog all on her own accord like a big girl.

But still, the absence of Fenrir by her side left her awake gasping at the slightest of noises and movements.  
  
A part of her hated Fenir for this. Hated how she could make a whole room fade out into the background just by smiling at her.   
  
But she can't fault Fenir for her own selfishness.

The same sinful nature that caused her to get into fights, talkback, and get put on the punishing end of belts. Her own stupidity that seemed to ruin everything she did.   
  
Fenir claimed that she was just too brave to worry about thinking things over.

That her backtalk was something of wit that matched bark. That her punishments were unfair. That the voices whispering sniping remarks that jabbed at her soul were falsehoods.

_Lies,_ Fenir said, _ugly untrue lies._   
  
Danae didn't know if such things were true or not but they made her feel better. Also, it made her feel dumb, but a good type of dumb, if that made sense at all.

The kind of blocking fog Fenir always seemed to conjure around her mind from the simplest of things. A cloud of judgment like the one that led to where they are now.   
  
The older boy had promised they'd be free, safe, and most importantly together.

And like a fool Danae believed him and dragged Fenir into this mess along with her in strings of promises and falsehoods.

A sudden jerk of the van caused them to tighten their already vice-like grip on another.

The ride has been quiet aside from the muffled sounds of traffic and their combined hushed whimpering. Anything to be said like the millions of apologies racing through her head died in her throat as fear ate at everything that tried to come out.  
  
Hours of repenting with her knees on grits and salt would be worth it if they could go back. 

But hoping was another falsehood and the reality of the situation was that they were confined in a van going only god knows where.   
  
At least they were together.

* * *

  
  
  
A scream in the alley below tells the familiar occurrence of a rape, mugging or killing in progress. Either way, there would be hell to pay.

Terribly lit, grime coated and hidden away. A passerby would walk apathetically past it not even sparing a glance, no matter what they heard.   
  
It's the perfect place for criminals to flirt with crime and for Catra to show her love of violence.  
  
The vigilante lands in a crouch just in time for Catra to be impressed with the blonde's right hook. But the Wildcat of BrightMoon doesn't have time for overzealous civilians getting in her way, not even the pretty ones.

So she darts forward, slamming her knee into a mugger's gut and whirling a kick to the jaw at the next when he drops.   
  
It doesn't connect how she intended though, only clipping him. But it's enough to hurt and make him angry.

In retaliation, unfairly quick—perhaps his adrenaline she notes, he slashes a knife around wildly.

The blonde, being the closest to his swings, makes a dodge that's as impressive as her right hook. Catra can tell by her stance that she's about to do something really fucking stupid.   
  
Not one for chances and not wanting to see the cliche of a cut-up bloodied blonde, Catra rushes him, letting one of his slashes connect with her forearm.   
  
The material of her jacket prevents it from doing any harm and the next swing he attempts doesn't happen. She wrenches his wrist back until it makes a satisfying pop and kicks his knee in from the front.   
  
The man falls and there is that familiar rewarding fear in his eyes.

Karma is a cruel but fair mistress.  
  
She wastes no time kicking him into the ground.

Above him as menacing as a devil and with the righteous fury of an angel she rains hell upon him.   
  
Letting her frustrations pour out like the blood gushing out his nose as she lays blow after blow on his fucking face. There is a punishing passion in her strikes.

She is an outline, merely a dark red in an even darker night. Her fist falls like clockwork, mindless, and over and over again.

" _Who do you think you are?_ "

It doesn't halt her but at some point, her fist hitches and stays cocked like a handgun in front of a battered face.   
  
Every single sound, every moan, and whimper he makes causes her hand to itch with the need to hit and never stop.   
  
Part of her is horrified but most of her realizes that she's wasting time.  
  
The knees of her pants are stained dark with grime buts its only a minor inconvenience, like the crimson she wipes on her jacket while she gets off her haunches. She wanted to try that new detergent Edna brought in anyway.  
  
"Who do you think you are?"The blonde asks again, stepping forward into a better view.

Catching sight of her face, her eyes glaring and searing fury, the wild cat of BrightMoon doesn't flinch but Catra does.   
  
" _Vengeance_." Catra growls out, brushing past the blonde and her molten gaze.   
  
"Is that what you think you do? What about what you did to my brother last night at the bank?" The blondes volume is steadily rising. "You knew I don't know how but you _knew."_

" _Penance_."   
  
Billowing smoke consumes them somehow, even though she was watching them, glaring at them and still she didn't see it happen. And just like that, the blonde is alone in the alley save for the remnants of the vigilantes 'justice'.  
  
Hearing groans of pain, Adora figures she should call an ambulance for them. And the police since they sorta kinda tried to rob her.  
  
Several feet up in the air once again Catra continues on her patrol route. The one-sided conversation with the blonde is forgotten, ignored, and locked away. No time for overzealous civilians.

Even if they are _really_ fucking pretty.  
  
Screams in the air steal her focus once again and she departs into the night.

It appears karma is generous to her this night.  
  
By the time she gets there, the screams have died out along with their maker. A car peels out of its parked space that obscured any view into the alleyway. She doesn't give chase there's no point but she notes the make and model.

All black Vaz 2109 with a dent on the rear quarter panel.   
  
The grime coated floor has a carpet of blood, too much for anyone to be alive.   
  
It trails up to a green dumpster with rusty streaks painting the top. Flies buzz atop but its not garbage that attracts them.  
  
Laying on top of piles of trash is a shirtless man—a corpse.

There are stars tattooed on both of his shoulders, which is ironic since he most likely died on his knees.

Splotches on his jeans and the execution-style cause of death that confirms it. 

The killer or killers decapitated his head clean off his shoulders. No extra veins or flesh left behind. A clean rip besides from the blood-splattered around.

Its a language she's intimately familiar with and a word she knows all too well.

_изменник,_ Russian for traitor.

This was as personal as it was professional.

Really professional too, since it took her only a few minutes to make it here and she only caught them speeding away.

This was planned ahead of time or the killer has done this before.   
  
With several photos on her phone, Catra leaves the body for the police to find. But the smell lingers in her nose like it always will in her mind.

She should've given chase.   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is half self-indulgence and half a need to express my lingering feelings on daredevil and excitement about the upcoming Batman movie. For my Autumnus readers imma just tell yall that im a little stuck, but im getting there.


End file.
